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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/23444359">North German Intermezzo</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/GwendolynKlein/pseuds/GwendolynKlein'>GwendolynKlein</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Star Trek, Star Trek: Deep Space Nine</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Gen, LLF Comment Project, Long Live Feedback Comment Project</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-04-02</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-04-02</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-01 13:22:45</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>2,246</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/23444359</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/GwendolynKlein/pseuds/GwendolynKlein</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Another encounter of the North German kind</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Damar (Star Trek)/Original Female Character(s)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>3</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>North German Intermezzo</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    
<p></p><div class="center">
  <p>
    <b></b>
  </p>
  <p>Foreword</p>
</div><p>The idea for this story came to me when I spent a few days alone in a small holiday home on the German Baltic Sea coast to write and crochet.<br/>
For those who have never been to northern Germany, north of Hamburg, and who do not know the northern Germans, a few more small explanations:</p><p>The North German is rather stubborn and very taciturn. If somewhere else a "Good morning.", "Have a good day.", Or another greeting of the day is common, a "Moin" at any time of the day or night is sufficient. But please not "Moin moin.", only chatterboxes say.<br/>
In northern Germany it can happen that you sit together with several people barbecuing, each with a bottle of beer, and gazing intently at the area. Nobody has to talk, you have a good time. Maybe someone says: “Jeo.” ("Yeah.") and the answer is a nod. This “Jeo” can mean pretty much anything. For example: “Have a nice day, what.” or "Time to get the meat ready, I'm hungry." or also “Did you read the shit in the newspaper? I tell you ... etc."</p><p>They are special, but always friendly and helpful. So if you are a non-North German vacationer for the first time, you may feel a bit like an alien. </p><p>Why did I choose Damar for this story? I don't know, I just had to think of him.</p>
<p></p><div class="center">
  <p>
    <b></b>
  </p>
  <p>North German Intermezzo</p>
</div><p>It had happened again. Damar hit the small transporter's system displays with a fist and his upper lip curled in contempt when he noticed the smoke rising from the console. This ship seemed to be a magnet for all conceivable and unthinkable anomalies. What was supposed to be a short flight to the secret base of the Cardassian resistance became an excursion into the past thanks to some unspecified Tachyon Nebula.</p><p>Upon exiting the anomaly, the well-informed database enabled him to identify the solar system in which it had catapulted him as the sol system. Great, Federation area of all places, was his first thought, but the Cratak should have quickly caught the attention of Starfleet. The anomaly caused the ship no serious but not insignificant damage, a repair was inevitable. As he approached the third planet, he scanned the space ahead for other Starfleet ships and facilities that would have gladly offered him help with their federation-typical arrogance, but received unusual advertisements. There were only a lot of small satellites, and a tiny orbital device that could hardly be called a space station. There was no sign of the Starfleet here. Had the computer made a mistake in identifying the system? The ship's computer finally delivered facts. It had not only been thrown across space, but also into another time, the first third of the 21st century standard earth calendar. So no federation, he really had to land on the planet and see how he got out of this situation.<br/>
As if to confirm, the ship bucked, several warning lights and an unnerving beep called for his attention. He didn't have much time to find a suitable landing site, so he gave priority to a quickly accessible, sparsely populated area in the night hemisphere. A quick decision was required, and then all he focused on was trying to land the Cratak in one piece. Fortunately, the floor in the clearing he was aiming for was quite flat and the ground seemed stable. The surrounding forest should initially prevent discovery.</p><p>Damar opened the hatch to let the smoke out of the ship and fresh air into it, reached for a fire extinguisher and smothered a last small fire on a console. Ice-cold air crept inside the ship, and Damar shivered uncomfortably, but after venting the hatch resisted every try to close it. He shook the stubborn metal, growled and cursed loudly. So also cold. The Cardassian got out of the Cratak and looked for the defect in the locking mechanism. The result of his search frustrated him. A split pin was obviously broken and no longer held the bolt in place. Damar would find an adequate replacement in the ship and have to fix the bolt. But the cold became more bitter, crawled through his skin into the bones and his fingers became numb. Fire, he had to make a fire.</p><p>The Cardassian buried his hands under his armpits and turned to the forest, where he should quickly find something flammable even in the dark. He walked carefully through the uneven, high grass and suddenly stopped in the middle of the step. At the edge of the forest, less than 10 meters away, someone stood, dressed in black, only through the pale moonlight from behind was the outline of a person recognizable. This person stood there with his arms crossed, watching him. How long? Had the human noticed the landing? What now? Escape forward, Damar thought, walking slowly toward the edge of the forest. He expected the man to flee or scream, show some panic reaction. But the woman, he now recognized the feminine features as he approached, just stood there with her arms crossed.</p><p>He stopped two arm's length from her and activated the translator on his Comm Cuff with trembling fingers. Now what can I say? He looked at her brooding and made some explanation, but she came before.<br/>
"Problems?" She had got it straight to the point, and he nodded when the translator presented his supposed translation. She nodded back and looked closely at him from top to bottom, unable to stop the tremor. "Hrmm!" she growled, a sound Damar knew of himself and translated for himself with exasperated resignation. She made a movement with her head, which should probably be an invitation to follow her. He walked behind the woman with a little distance and chattering teeth. Damar decided he didn't care what happened now if he only got out of the cold. Who could live like this?<br/>
Well, she obviously could, although her clothes weren't particularly thick and a thick white cloud left her mouth every time she breathed out. Her clothes were only supplemented by gloves, a wool hat and a huge scarf that she had put around her shoulders and her neck.<br/>
Minutes later they stepped out of the forest onto a larger meadow, on the other side of which stood a tiny house. He could hear the surf of the great body of water that he had seen approaching. The woman went to the house and entered through a low door. Damar had to bow his head as he crossed the threshold. Immediate warmth enveloped him. "Shoes." it came from the woman and he looked at her irritated. She pointed to his feet and repeated a little louder: "Shoooeess!" The translator gave an overwhelmed beep. He looked at his feet, then hers, then understood, took off his boots and neatly placed them in the meticulously aligned row of other shoes on the wall.</p><p>In the meantime, the woman was busy in an adjoining large room with cupboards, appliances and a heavy wooden table in the middle. She turned briefly to him, waved one hand in the direction of the chairs, and continued to work. A short time later an alarming whistle sounded and steamed from a cauldron. She took it, poured hot water into two cups, put them on the table and shoved one under his nose. A pleasant scent rose in his nose. "Tea." She said, sat down and reached for a potty with brownish crystals. The translator translated and sounded pleased to have recognized the spoken word. After dropping two of these crystals into her tea, she pushed the potty to Damar and nodded.</p><p>They sat in silence, Damar enjoyed the warmth of the tea spreading through his body and considered the situation. The humans he had met so far, only members of the Federation, had always seemed to him like tittle-tattlers who liked to hear themselves speak. This woman seemed to make an art out of saying as little as possible. At that moment she looked at him, nodded and said: "Jeo." The translator beeps irritated again.</p><p>She watched him openly for a while and Damar saw that it was working in her head. Then suddenly she slapped her forehead with one hand, rose abruptly and called, more to herself than to Damar: "There is a guest in the house and I idiot forget the cookies for tea." She reached into the cupboard and took out an ornate tin can, opened the lid and pushed the can in front of the Cardassian, who didn't trust his translator's translation and didn't know how to deal with the situation. He had to, he wanted to get back to the ship as soon as possible and fix the hatch, but he wouldn't get far in the cold. If only it got a little warmer tomorrow. He activated the ComCuff: “Is it always so cold here? I have to fix my ship.” he looked at her questioningly, trying to get something like a friendly smile on his face. Again he was blatantly eyed. "You're not from here?!" It was more of a statement than a question, but he shook his head. She nodded. "It's getting warmer tomorrow." she said, pushing the can closer to Damar's hand and nodding again, watching him. He reached for one of these elongated, thin things in the can and carefully bit a small corner of the crumbly substance. Surprised by the mixture of sweetness and spice, he took several of these “cookies” one after the other.</p><p>Two cups of tea and several cookies later, the woman waved Damar to follow her, up a narrow staircase into a spacious room with a fireplace flickering in one corner, opposite two armchairs and a huge sofa. She rummaged briefly in a wooden chest, then pressed a mountain of woolen blankets into his arms and nodded to the sofa. "Moin." she said, and disappeared behind a door. He paused for a moment, startled and unsure whether to go back to Cratak. But the fire in the fireplace was very convincing and after he had made himself comfortable under the blankets on the sofa, the furniture developed its own kind of gravity, the pull of which he could not escape. Damar fell asleep.</p><p>The Cardassian was awakened by the shrill whistle of the kettle in the kitchen and took a few moments to orient himself. He followed an aromatic scent down to the kitchen and the woman looked at him questioningly. "Moin. Coafféeee? ” Again, the ComCuff could not offer a translation, but then she nodded again, put down a steaming cup with an almost black liquid, pointed to the chair and commanded: "Coafféeee!". Damar sat down, closed his hands around the cup to enjoy the warmth, and then looked suspiciously at a plate that was being pushed by the woman. "´is Moakreeele, smoked." She saw his look. "Fish!" she added. This was something the translator could do with and Damar hoped that the fish would have nothing to do with the dried fish from his home world, which was often served as standard food for the military. Fortunately, “Moakreeele” was very tasty and the “Coafféeee” had awakened its spirits.</p><p>"I have to go back now, fix my ship." Damar said after the meal, pointed with one hand towards the door and wanted to get up, but the woman stopped him with a gesture and came around the table. She took his hand before he could pull it back, put her palm against his, and released it. Then she looked at his head for a moment and disappeared up the stairs. When she returned, she gave him a pair of wool gloves and a knitted hat, watched him put on both, and nodded in satisfaction.<br/>
Together they walked back to the Cratak, it was actually warmer than at night. The air was too cold for Damar's taste, but the temperature was bearable in the sunshine.<br/>
It took him a long time, several hours to repair the hatch bolt bracket. The woman watched him. But never came closer than a few meters to the Cratak. In between, she disappeared to come back later with a metal cylinder. She unscrewed the cover of the cylinder, filled a liquid from the cylinder into the cover and gave both to Damar. "Coafféeee." she said succinctly and he was pleased with the warmth.<br/>
Finally, the Cardassian was done, he closed and opened the hatch several times, checked the ship systems and calculated a course that should lead him back to the tachyon fog.</p><p>He could see the woman through the ship window, standing there with her arms crossed, watching him through the window. It was time to say goodbye.<br/>
He left the Cratak and went to the woman. He operated his ComCuff: "Thank you for the help." he said and held out his hand, a gesture he'd seen a lot with Federation people. She stepped up to him, wiped his hand to the side, and gave the perplexed Cardassian a brief but powerful hug. He wanted to give her the gloves and hat back, but she waved vigorously. "Now get out of here." she said with a big smile and underlined her words with waving hands.<br/>
Damar got back into the Cratak and started the machine. When he looked out the window, the woman was gone. Only now did he realize that he had no idea what her name was.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>This story is part of the <a href="https://longlivefeedback.tumblr.com/llfcommentproject">LLF Comment Project</a>, which was created to improve communication between readers and authors. This author invites and appreciates feedback, including:</p><ul>
<li>Short comments</li>
<li>Long comments</li>
<li>Questions</li>
<li>Constructive criticism</li>
<li>“&lt;3” as extra kudos</li>
<li>Reader-reader interaction</li>
</ul><p>This author replies to comments.<br/>    “If you don’t want a reply, for any reason (sometimes I feel shy when I’m reading and not up to starting a conversation, for example), feel free to sign your comment with “whisper” and I will appreciate it but not respond!”</p><div class="center"></div></blockquote></div></div>
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